Truth and Consequences
by Luminol
Summary: When a decomposing body of a young woman washes up on shore, the scene seems familiar to Sara...
1. The Crime Scene

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters and I don't make any money from this  
  
Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction story ever and I'm a bit nervous. Please R&R! (  
  
Chapter one  
  
It was a warm autumn night in Las Vegas. Crime scene investigators Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom were heading for a crime scene. They'd been assigned to a 419. Sara was driving the black Chevy Tahoe that belonged to the crime lab and Grissom was in the passenger seat.  
  
After a half-hour drive, they reached their destination. Sara parked the SUV next to the two police cars that were already at the scene. She and Grissom got out and walked over to where homicide detective Jim Brass was standing.  
  
"What's the story?" asked Grissom.  
  
"A man was fishing when the body of a young woman washed on to the shore," answered Brass. "She's already starting to decompose."  
  
Sara ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. Like Brass had said, a decomposing woman had washed onto shore. She had long blond hair that was matted and intertwined with seaweed. She was wearing a soggy dress that was slashed open at the front. It appeared as if the fish and crabs that inhabited the lake had been feasting on her as chunks of flesh were missing. She was bloated and her skin was gray. Her hands were shriveled which would make it difficult to get prints.  
  
Usually Sara enjoyed cases where the body was still at the scene. But this one was different. It seemed familiar. It made her feel cold despite the warm weather. She wrapped her denim jacket even tighter around herself, but it didn't help.  
  
Sara was taking a camera out of her crime scene kit as Grissom came and stood next to her.  
  
"We already know she didn't come here voluntarily," he said.  
  
"The dress," said Sara as she began snapping photos.  
  
"You wouldn't wear a fishing hat to a restaurant and in return it's unlikely that a woman in a dress planned on going to a lake," commented Grissom as he took out his notebook and jotted down information about the scene and the victim. He estimated she was about twenty years old.  
  
Once Sara had finished photographing the victim and the scene, she took out her flashlight and went in search of footprints in the wet sand. She examined every inch of the crime scene. Excluding hers and Grissom's, she only found one set. The unknown tracks started by the road that led to the lake and stopped about five feet from the body.  
  
She found the clearest impression and placed a ruler next to it. It looked like it belonged to a man who wore size eleven boots. Once again, she pulled out the camera and took two pictures incase one was blurry. She realized the prints might belong to the man who found the body. She compared them to his boots. They were a perfect match. Well that was the end of that theory. She went back to Grissom to see what he had found.  
  
"Find anything interesting?" she asked.  
  
"She has ligature marks on her neck. I scrapped under her nails for residue and some crabs were enjoying themselves as they gnawed on our body."  
  
Grissom looked up from the deteriorating corpse. He had that wise look in his eyes as he said, "The crabs might be our only witnesses. Occasionally a good eyewitness will walk away from a crime scene, but in this case, they walked backwards." 


	2. The Morgue

Author's Note: I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter! A special thanx to everyone who commented on Grissom's last line. This is the line that I was most unsure about and I almost deleted it. You guys inspired me to continue this story. Please R&R!  
  
Chapter two  
  
Once Sara and Grissom had finished at the crime scene, the body was transported to the morgue at the crime lab. Grissom brought the scrapings from her nails to Greg for him to analyze. Then he went to his office to study insect larvae he had found in the victim's mouth.  
  
Sara was sitting at a desk. The photos she had taken had been developed. She was studying them carefully with a magnifying glass in case they missed something.  
  
After a couple of hours, her pager started beeping. It startled her as the noise broke the solitude of the office. She unclipped it from her hip, pressed the button to stop the sound, and held it at eye level. It was Dr. Robbins, the chief medical examiner at the lab.  
  
Sara looked at the clock on the wall. It was quarter after one in the morning. She always looked forward to late night autopsy results.  
  
She put the pictures back in the manila envelope that was labeled with Jane Doe and the case number. She then put the envelope into the evidence box and left the office.  
  
As she walked down the deserted hallway, she noticed Nick examining something with a microscope in the ballistics lab. Usually she would have stopped to say hi to her friend, but she really wanted to find out what had happened to the girl who washed up on the shore.  
  
Finally she reached the stairs at the end of the hall. As she descended into the basement she felt the air grow slightly chilled. She pushed open the double doors to the entrance of the morgue and walked in.  
  
She took a disposable blue smock off the shelf and tied it behind her back. She grabbed a white paper mask to cover her mouth and nose. After University, she had worked in a coroner's office for five years. She was used being present during autopsies, but had never grown accustomed to the smell of rotting flesh. She simply held the mask in place because the ties always made her ears itchy. She didn't bother with the latex gloves because she wouldn't be touching anything.  
  
When she went through the next set of doors, she saw Robbins standing over a cold metal table on which a body lay. Grissom was across from him.  
  
"Hey," she said to both of them as she stood next to her boss.  
  
Robbins replied, "Hi Sara," and Grissom gave her one of his famous half- smiles.  
  
"Well," started Robbins, "Grissom, you were close with her age. I'd say she's about seventeen."  
  
"Damn, she's just a girl," said Sara to no one in peticular.  
  
Robbins nodded sullenly and Grissom said nothing.  
  
The coroner continued with his findings. "Cause of death is asphyxiation. Not only isn't there any water in her lungs, but the alveoli aren't dilated which is synonymous with drowning. Going by the ligature marks on her neck, bite marks on her tongue, and petechial hemorrhages in her eyes, she was probably hanged."  
  
Sara sighed softly. Grissom looked up at her. He hoped she wouldn't get emotionally involved with this case. He didn't know what, but something must have happened in her past. Every now and then, there was a case where she got too emotionally attached to the victim. The last time had been peticularly bad. She referred to their Jane Doe, who had been raped, shot, and left for dead, on a first name basis. She spent the day after her night shift at the lab, searching missing person's reports in an attempt to find her identity. Sara maxed-out on over time every month. She also didn't have much of a life outside of law enforcement. Grissom feared that she was going to burn out. The lab needed her. Hell, so did he.  
  
"On that note," continued Robbins, bringing Grissom back to reality, "the physical findings show that she was sexually assaulted prior to death."  
  
"Son of a bitch," thought Sara. "This is all too familiar."  
  
Sara felt cold again. This was worse than at the crime scene. This wasn't just the usual chill that lingered in the stale air of the morgue. This feeling of coldness seemed to originate in her bones.  
  
"What are our chances of getting decent prints?" asked Grissom. As usual, he was focused on the investigation. Sara wished she could be like that.  
  
"With her hands alone, none at all," said Robbins. "As you know, you need pressure to make a print. Being in the lake caused her hands to shrivel. However, the water did loosen her skin."  
  
Grissom caught on instantly. He looked at the corpse's withered hand and then at Sara with a raised eyebrow. She too, understood what had been implied.  
  
"Don't look at me!" she exclaimed breaking the silence.  
  
"Sara, this is the only way to get her prints," reasoned Grissom. "It could be because of you that we find out who this girl is."  
  
Sometimes Sara really wanted to hate her boss. He was full of logic and reason and always seemed to be right. But as much as she tried to dislike the man she never could. There was something about him. He was just…Grissom.  
  
The coroner picked up a scalpel and started to cut the dead girl's hands. Because she was dead, only a few drops of blood trickled out.  
  
Grissom took the finger printing supplies and a pair of latex gloves out of a drawer. He pulled over a small metal table that was on wheels and set the inkpad next to the print card.  
  
He handed Sara the gloves. She snapped them on with some defiance that made Grissom smile slightly. Sara glared at him.  
  
Sara shuddered slightly when Grissom put the dead skin on her hands. It was ice cold and she could feel the sliminess through the gloves.  
  
One at a time, Grissom pressed her fingers against the ink and then the paper.  
  
While this was happening, Sara couldn't help but wonder if this had been done to identify Michelle. The thought of her friend's skin on someone else's hands made her nauseous.  
  
Finally, the procedure was finished. Grissom removed the flaccid skin and gave it back to Robbins.  
  
Sara threw the gloves in the garbage along with the mask she had abandoned on the counter while her hands were occupied. If having someone's skin on her didn't make her vomit, she didn't think anything could.  
  
She scrubbed her hands furiously with pink antibacterial soap in the metal sink. Gradually, the nausea started to pass, and she went back to where her colleagues stood around the table.  
  
"Do you know how long she's been dead?" asked Grissom.  
  
"Well, it's a tough case to estimate," stated Robbins. "I don't think she's been in the water all that long. Usually when bodies are submerged in water, a substance called adipocere forms as fatty tissues harden. In this case, adipocere isn't present which means she was decomposing before she was dumped in the lake."  
  
"That makes sense," Grissom said. "We found some larvae in her mouth. They're blowfly eggs. She was decomposing long before she hit the water."  
  
"Were you planning on telling me?" demanded Sara.  
  
Grissom looked up from the corpse. "Of course. I just didn't have a chance."  
  
Sara narrowed her eyes slightly. "Right," she said sarcastically.  
  
Robbins, sensing the tension, added, "Well, that's all I have for you guys at the moment."  
  
Sara took this as an opportunity to escape. "I'll run her prints through AFIS. Unless you wanted to do that too." She said bitterly.  
  
Without waiting for an answer she picked up the print card, turned, and stormed out of the morgue. 


	3. The Truth

Author's note: Thanx again for all the great reviews! Sorry this chapter took me longer to write. I swear we've had a test in every subject in school this week! Oh well! I hope you enjoy and please R&R! :)  
  
Dedication: This story is now dedicated to mom. She encourages me to write and is always available for opinions 'n such! Thank-you!  
  
Chapter three  
  
Sara found the warm air and heat lamps very calming. She was in the area of the lab where wet evidence was dried before it could be processed. The victim's dress was on a table under one of the many heat lamps. A bloody shirt from someone else's case occupied the table adjacent to it.  
  
Sara was sitting at a computer, waiting to see if AFIS could find a match on the prints. Nothing yet.  
  
She didn't have to be in the drying area. There were plenty of other computers dispersed throughout the crime lab. The truth was, she desperately needed the relaxation that the empty room offered her.  
  
Grissom was one of her best friends. But then again, that didn't really say a lot. She had always been a bit of a loner. Of course she had once been a child physically, but she had never really been one mentally. Her parents had always told her to "relax" and "enjoy herself". This had had the opposite effect on her. She had skipped a few grades in school, and still remained top of her class. The other kids resented her and she did nothing to change their minds. She was always on her own. She never really cared though. She had had nothing in common with her peers. She could probably be featured in "The Guinness Book of World Records" as the only girl in America to have never owned a Barbie doll.  
  
Her high standards and determination had carried her far. All the way to Harvard. She had spent four of the best years of her life in University. In fact, it was here that she had met Grissom. And it was because of their friendship that she had gotten her current job.  
  
Her beloved job. She buried herself in her work. She often isolated herself from others. She had trouble talking to people about her problems. It was almost like she didn't feel she could trust them with her secrets. She hadn't always been this way. She'd had a best friend in high school. She had had so much in common with Michelle. She was the one person Sara had ever confided in. But then one day, everything changed.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
It was during the spring of 1986 when Sara and her best friend Michelle were leaving school. They had gotten into an argument. They didn't fight often, but when they did it always was over something stupid. Both girls could be quite stubborn.  
  
Usually after school they discussed something they'd learned in class that day or something else that none of their classmates had any interest in. But this day was different. Sara went straight home and assumed Michelle had done the same.  
  
It was after dinner and Sara was studying for an upcoming biology test when Michelle's mother called. She had asked if Sara knew where her daughter had gone after school. Sara had told the worried mother that she had no idea. After she had hung up the phone, she thought she was going to be sick.  
  
Michelle's parents had filed a missing person's report. The girl's whereabouts were unknown for two weeks. Those weeks had been hell for Sara. In contrary to what the local police thought, Michelle was the last person she would expect to run away. She didn't have a reason to. She had a bright future, a younger sister who idolized her, and she was very close to her parents.  
  
Then her parents got a call from a medical examiner. A man had dove into a lake and discovered the body of a young girl. She fit Michelle's description and her parents had to identify her. Unfortunately, it was Michelle. She had been raped, strangled, tied to a cement block, and as a final act of degradation, thrown into a lake.  
  
Sara never saw Michelle's body, but she could imagine what her dear friend would have looked like after spending two weeks in her watery grave. The image still haunted Sara's dreams.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sara was awakened from her thoughts by the beep of the computer. A match had been found! The girl's name was Natalie Anders. She was indeed seventeen. Her prints were on file because she had volunteered at a camp for children with multiple sclerosis.  
  
The discovery made Sara smile. Their chances of catching the killer were better now that they knew who she was. She printed the information and went to find Grissom.  
  
While Sara was scanning the prints, Grissom had received a page from Greg. Hoping he had discovered the killer's DNA from the nail scrapings, he went straight to the lab.  
  
As Grissom approached the lab, he could hear rock music playing. When he opened the door, the skinny, spiky haired lab technician was sitting at his desk. His back was facing Grissom and he was tapping on the surface with two pens instead of drumsticks.  
  
Thinking this must be another rock star phase, Grissom watched the younger man with amusement.  
  
"Excuse me, Ringo," interrupted Grissom. "Do you have the results yet?"  
  
Greg turned off the music and jumped off the chair. He picked up a computer printout from his desk.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do. I tried to run a Standard Restriction Fragment Length Polymorphism test," started Greg. His eyes were focused on the paper, but occasionally made contact with his boss's. "But nothing come up because deoxyribonucleic acid isn't pres…"  
  
"Are you getting paid by the word, Greg?" asked Grissom whose eyes were slightly narrowed.  
  
Greg sighed. He loved it when his findings would eventually solve the case. But this time, even he knew they probably wouldn't help.  
  
"The test didn't work because your victim didn't manage to scratch her killer. The grime under her nails consists of sand, mud, and clay. All of which she could've picked up in the lake," stated Greg as he handed Grissom the paper.  
  
Grissom glanced at the paper. If only she had scratched her assailant. Then they'd actually have a lead.  
  
"Did she really just wash up on the shore?" asked the curious lab tech.  
  
"Yeah," answered Grissom. He was always amazed at how fast news about investigations traveled throughout the department.  
  
"She sells seashells by the sea shore," quoted Greg.  
  
"Not anymore," said Grissom as he looked up from the printout. 


	4. The Investigation

Disclaimers: Once again, I don't own any of the CSI characters, so please don't sue me! However, Michelle and Natalie Anders officially belong to me! They may be dead, but they are still mine so hands off!  
  
Archive: Please don't touch!  
  
Author's notes: Sorry it took me so long to post this! I've been really busy and writer's block played a small part! Thanks again for the reviews! Please continue to R&R!  
  
Chapter 4 Sara was still holding the printout from AFIS as she walked down the deserted corridor. She was reading it and before she knew it, she had arrived at the metal door with the nameplate that read: Supervisor, Gil Grissom. The door was shut, so she knocked on it.  
  
"Come in," answered her friend from the other side.  
  
Sara opened the door and entered the room. She had been in the man's office many times before and it still astonished her. The first thing she saw was a gray metal shelf. It stopped about two feet from the ceiling and held glass jars that contained different colored liquids and a variety of embalmed creatures.  
  
Grissom was sitting behind his cluttered, but well organized desk. On the wall behind him was yet another shelf. This one was mounted on the wall and was where the entomologist displayed part of his vast insect collection. Bugs of all sizes and colors were pinned onto boards. Sara could only recognize a few of them.  
  
"Hi Sara," said Grissom as he looked up from his desk and removed his glasses.  
  
"Hi," she replied as she stood in front of the desk. "I found out who she is. Her name's Natalie Anders. Her prints are on file because she volunteered at a camp for children with MS. Her last known address is, or was, 175 Empersin Street." She finished the speech by placing the paper on her boss's desk.  
  
Grissom studied his colleague while she was speaking. She was holding onto what looked like a sheet of computer paper, but she wasn't reading from it. She had memorized this small segment of the girl's history. Apparently she had gotten over what had happened in the morgue as she was now smiling.  
  
Grissom decided that this would be a good time to participate in the sharing of the findings.  
  
"There wasn't any DNA under her nails," Grissom paused to watch her facial expression. When the predicted look of disappointment came, he continued. "But I studied the blowfly eggs from her mouth. She'd been decomposing on land for about three days. When she was dumped in the lake, the eggs were stunted and therefore can't help with a time of death. Like Doc Robbins said, it's difficult to pinpoint due to the fact that the conditions in the water were unstable."  
  
Sara glanced at the clock on the wall. Only ten minutes left until the end of her shift. However, she didn't want to go home to where her nightmares awaited her. Instead, she would stay at the lab and try to give Natalie's family some much-deserved closure.  
  
"I'll ask Brass to check that address," said Grissom. He sensed that the younger CSI did not want to go home, and added, "Do you want to process the dress? It should be dry by now."  
  
Sara smiled her real smile and replied, "I'm gone."  
  
Grissom watched the brunette leave his office. As much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn't help but realize that Sara was emotionally attached to the victim. He had spoken to her about that before. But inside he knew that all the talking in the world wouldn't change her. *~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Before she started on the dress, Sara went to the break room in search of coffee. Caffeine was always welcome when she pulled a double.  
  
When she entered the room, Nick was sitting on a chair, flipping through the latest edition of Forensic Science. He had clearly finished his work early that night.  
  
"Hi Nick," greeted Sara as she searched the cupboard for her favorite coffee mug.  
  
"Hey Sara," answered Nick in his southern accent.  
  
Sara found her mug and poured herself some coffee.  
  
"Do you want some?" she asked Nick as she pointed to the coffeepot in her hand.  
  
"No thanks. I'm not that brave," he replied with a smile.  
  
Sara smiled back, but it wasn't her full smile. That one was reserved for when she solved a case, and occasionally Grissom.  
  
Sara sat down across from Nick and cautiously sipped her coffee. It tasted horrible. She made a face that caused Nick to chuckle.  
  
"You look like hell," she stated. Sara always told it like it was.  
  
"Thanks," said Nick as he rubbed his eyes. "Catherine and I got assigned to a tough case. A guy intentionally shot and killed his five year old daughter."  
  
Sara didn't say anything. She knew all about being affected by a case.  
  
Suddenly Catherine appeared at the doorway. She walked through the room and sat next to Sara. She looked just as bad as (if not worse than) Nick.  
  
"I'm glad the shift's almost over," said Nick, breaking the newfound silence.  
  
"Tell me about it," commented Catherine. "I just want to go home and hug Lindsey."  
  
Sara felt a slight pang of jealousy. She didn't want a kid, but sometimes she wished she had someone to go home to.  
  
"Are you going home today, Sara?" asked Nick without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. It was perfectly normal for Sara to stay at the lab even when she wasn't supposed to be working.  
  
"Probably not," answered Sara who didn't really like the direction that the conversation was going in. "I'm going back to work," stated Sara as she rose from her chair.  
  
"Bye Sara," said Nick.  
  
"Bye," she answered before she walked out the door.  
  
Sara went back to the drying area and examined the dress. It was dry and slightly stiff from drying on the table.  
  
Sara took an evidence form from the stack on a nearby shelf. She took a pen out of the pocket of the blue-gray lab coat. She often wore it when she was analyzing evidence in the lab.  
  
She stood over the table and began writing down information about the garment. It was red, size 7, and made of a blend of 92 percent nylon and 8 percent spandex.  
  
She grabbed a magnifying glass from a drawer and searched the dress for anything that could be sent to trace.  
  
Sara had been straining her brown eyes for what seemed like hours when she noticed something glinting under the bright light that shone above her. It was some kind of fiber. She mentally scolded herself for not seeing it sooner.  
  
She took the tweezers in her right hand and gently plucked the strange fiber from the garment. She held it up to the light and examined it closely. It had a tinge of red to it, but it was definitely made from a different material than the dress.  
  
Sara walked across the room to where a microscope was kept. She mounted the fiber on a slide and continued to examine the mysterious fiber. It was rather short and coarse. It also had a triangular cross section. Sara thought it might have been from a carpet of some kind.  
  
She packaged the fiber in a tiny manila envelope and wrote, "For Trace" on the label.  
  
The thirty-one year old workaholic picked up the magnifying glass and continued her search.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"You rang?" questioned Jim Brass as he walked into Grissom's office.  
  
The night shift supervisor looked up from the papers that covered the surface of his already cluttered desk. He had paged the detective about five minutes ago.  
  
It was obvious that the man's shift was almost over. The more Grissom thought about it, the sleep deprived Jim, in a strange sort of way, actually had a slight resemblance to the housekeeper from The Addam's Family. He quickly pushed that thought aside before he envisioned his friend in an apron.  
  
"Yeah," replied Grissom as he pulled the printout Sara gave out from under the administrative papers he was working on. "Our Jane Doe in the lake has a name. She also has an address, or at least, she did."  
  
Brass raised his eyebrows at his friend's last comment.  
  
"But the address is a few years old, so I need you to check it out," finished Grissom.  
  
"I'll do it first thing tomorrow," said the detective as he rubbed his eyes.  
  
Grissom simply looked at the other man. "Jim, this is someone's kid who's been killed."  
  
Brass considered this very carefully. The victim was close in age to his own daughter. They didn't have they best relationship, and he'd already accepted the fact that he'd never win the title of 'Father of the Year', but he could imagine how he'd feel if she went missing.  
  
After contemplating this for awhile, Brass sighed. "What's the address?"  
  
"176 Emprine Street," answered Grissom.  
  
"You owe me a favor," said Brass as he left the room. 


	5. Title Pending

Disclaimers: See Chapter 1  
  
Archive: Please don't touch!  
  
Author's notes: Thanks to everyone who's read this story and an extra thanks to everyone who found time to write a review! I also want to apologize for the fact that this story is taking me so long to write. I wonder if there's a prescription medication that fights Writer's Block. I also realized that in chapter 4, the name of Natalie's street changed from 'Emprine Street' to 'Emperson Street'. This was a mistake on my part and the street is called 'Emprine'.  
  
Jim Brass returned to Grissom's office at eight thirty in the morning. The door was open, so he entered without knocking.  
  
The detective in Brass noticed that Grissom was studying some of his 'creepy crawlers' at his desk and looked up when he entered.  
  
"What's the word on the address?"  
  
"The Anders' still live there."  
  
Grissom smiled, rose from his chair, and asked, "Care to talk to them?"  
  
Brass wondered if Grissom required any sleep before answering, "It's a bit early to be making house calls."  
  
Grissom, feeling slightly like a child who had been told that Christmas would be delayed, knew that his friend was right.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sara was finally finished with the dress. She had used different light sources and even tape-lifted in an attempt to recover more evidence, but only the one fiber was present. She had also examined the rip in the front of the dress. It appeared to have been ripped as opposed to cut. She had swabbed along the tear incase the killer's epithelials were still there. It was a long shot, but they might be able to get his DNA.  
  
Sara was writing the case number on the swab's label when Grissom entered the room. He spoke before she had a chance to greet him.  
  
"Brass checked out the address from AFIS, the Anders' still live there."  
  
Sara grinned. The cute gap between her front teeth was now exposed.  
  
"That's great!" she said as she rose from the chair. "The sooner we can talk to her family, the better our chances of catching the bastard that did this to her."  
  
Grissom was slightly taken aback by her choice of words, but didn't let it show.  
  
"I combed every inch of this dress," started Sara as she gestured to the red garment, "and I only found one foreign fiber. It's probably from carpet as it has a triangular cross section. I also determined that the dress was ripped, not cut."  
  
Grissom started to open his mouth when Sara cut in with a smirk.  
  
"Yes, Gris. I swabbed for epithelials."  
  
Grissom gave Sara yet another of his half smiles. She was always one step ahead of him. If she were anyone else, he might have been intimidated. But seeing as this was Sara, his former student whom he shared an unspoken bond with, he didn't mind at all.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
That night.  
  
Sara was seated in the backseat of the dark colored Tahoe. She was with Captain Brass and Grissom. The three of them were heading down Emprine Street.  
  
Emprine Street was a tranquil residential street. Through the tinted windows of the SUV, Sara watched as middle class houses rolled by. One had a chain-link fence that contained a yappy terrier. Two small children played in front of another. Sara might've forgotten she was in Las Vegas had it not been for the skyscrapers and neon lights just beyond the peaceful scene.  
  
The sun was starting to set as the vehicle containing two criminalists and a homicide detective pulled into the driveway of 175 Emprine Street. This particular house was similar to its neighbors on the outside. The only real difference was that the lawn was overgrown with weeds. As strange as it was, the home seemed to have a slightly forlorn appearance.  
  
They climbed out of the Tahoe and closed the doors. Sara and Grissom clutched their field kits in their hands. They were ready and waiting to find evidence that would incriminate Natalie's killer.  
  
When the trio reached the wooden front door, Brass stepped ahead of the CSIs and rang the doorbell.  
  
After a brief wait, the door opened. On the other side stood a frail looking woman. She was rather short and as thin as a rail. Her shoulder length brown hair was clean, but seemed dull. Her eyes were a unique shade of greenish-blue and were among the saddest eyes Sara had ever seen. She was wearing faded blue jeans and a black oversized sweater that greatly contrasted with her pale skin. Her thin face lost what little color it had when Captain Brass took out his badge.  
  
Before the detective could say anything, a large, husky, man appeared at the woman's side. He looked as run-down as Mrs. Anders did.  
  
Brass kept the introductions brief, and spewed out the usual words that were used to inform someone that a loved one had died. It seemed as if Sara had heard this speech so many times that she no longer listened. Her attention was fixed on Natalie's parents. Their expressions were what was expected. Faces turned pale and seemed to sink even deeper. Mrs. Anders, whose first name had been revealed as Kate, started to cry silently and used her delicate hands on her husband's thick shoulder. Jack Anders turned as white as a sheet and gave the impression of someone who was about to faint.  
  
Once the news had been given, the law enforcement officers were silent. It was never easy to inform parents that their child was dead.  
  
It was Grissom who broke the silence.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Anders," he addressed, "We're trying very hard to determine who did this to your daughter. Evidence is usually time-sensitive. We'd like to examine your house for clues and anything you can tell us would be helpful to our investigation."  
  
Mr. Anders was now revitalized. Anger lit his blue eyes on fire. The tension seemed to snap as he declared in a gruff voice, "Mystery solved. The murderer is that son of a bitch Sean Muldrow!" 


End file.
